


Tainted Love

by Halane



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Tragic Romance, jealous jaskier if you want, just because these two idiots are all about the drama, not that nothing other than themselves is keeping them apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halane/pseuds/Halane
Summary: Sometimes it feels as if he can perceive her very soul, even though he is not sure souls exist at all.One of the nights Geralt and Yennefer share through the years.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 10
Kudos: 113





	Tainted Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> It's been a while since I've written something, so don't be too harsh on me. I'm just having a lot of thoughts and feelings about these two and felt like I could start sorting them out somehow. I've watched the show and I'm reading the books (currently halfway the second one), so I took some things from there.
> 
> See you around!

The scent reaches his nose not through the air, but through his mind, his heart, his being. Lilac and gooseberries and her skin beneath the perfume. Sometimes it feels as if he can perceive her very soul, even though he is not sure souls exist at all. He sees her before she enters the inn in which he and Jaskier are having an early dinner, all heads immediately turning to her luxurious, dark dress that is entirely out of place. The medallion on the witcher’s chest vibrates and his heart seems to skip one of its infrequent beats. Opposite him, Jaskier frowns.

‘Not again. Geralt. Look at me. Not-again.’ 

Geralt shakes his head smiling. Jaskier knows it is a pointless warning, but bless him for trying. Yennefer walks straight to him.

‘Well, you certainly could be having a more pleasant meal.’

‘It is pleasant enough, thank you very much.’ Jaskier answers before Geralt can find his words. ‘But perhaps not up to your high standards. I can recommend a fancier establishment not far from here…’

‘She will stay right here.’

‘Will I? How presumptuous.’

‘Hm.’

Geralt gestures to a chair. He is not presumptuous, he just knows that she is looking for him for some reason, or she wouldn’t have entered that cheap, dirty inn in the first place. She can afford better. 

Yennefer does not sit. 

‘Perhaps we should talk upstairs. In private.’

‘Oh no.’ Geralt rises, ignoring Jaskier’s negative. ‘What am I supposed to do? Go to the stables, sleep with Roach?’

‘You will find a welcoming bed somewhere, I am sure.’ says Geralt with a smirk.

Yennefer smiles as she takes Geralt upstairs without touching him. She does not need to. He would follow her down a cliff without a second look. Geralt leaves with the bard’s groan in his ears. Jaskier knows how this goes, but he doesn’t have to like it.

* * *

Geralt closes the door behind them and pins her to it in a swift move, maybe stronger than he intended, to drink her mouth up like an elixir he needs to keep living. She tastes bittersweet and too strong to be pleasant, but he does not want pleasant from her. She is so much better than pleasant. Her nails scratch down his arms as she lets herself be devoured. They stop kissing and breath, looking at each other, amber against violet, resignation against rebellion. She is not his opposite, they are the same in what matters, but she is also different in all the right ways. Or maybe in all the wrong ways. Geralt is never quite sure, and he is afraid he does not care to know. 

‘I’ve missed you terribly, Yen.’

‘I can tell. I trust that you have kept yourself entertained. I have.’

Geralt does not ask if she means work or affairs. No one can be with her like he is, in the same way that no woman can be with him like Yennefer. Others can enjoy their bodies, but they go deeper than that. He smiles again, like a fool. He always feel like a fool around her.

‘Let’s do better than entertained, then.’

Yennefer shoves him and he lets himself be pushed to the bed, because she can always use a spell to throw him across the room if she so pleases and he is more than happy to surrender without magic. His back hits the mattress and Yennefer climbs him, her dress rising up her legs as she places them on his sides. He pulls the low neckline of her dress down to free her small, firm breasts and cups them while she licks a spot near his left ear and bites her way down to his shoulder. Geralt rises one of his knees, forcing her to move so that he can feel her where he wants her. Yennefer presses against him, her heat radiating through the fabric of both their clothes in an unbearable temptation, and Geralt hears himself groan in anticipation. He slides his hand along Yennefer’s sides, pulling the dress higher until he can touch her skin, which is right there waiting, no undergarments in the way beyond the translucent stocking and a garter. His fingers go easy at first, barely a tickle, warming up, building up the intensity. Yennefer tries to free him from his shirt, but she also does not want him to break the contact, so she gives up and just places her hands on his chest to ride his hand and his dick at the same time.

Geralt stares at her. She is beautiful, free, powerful. He wonders why this cannot be enough for her. Why he is not enough, even though she is almost too much. She shivers and moans once, twice, pressing harder, and Geralt pushes a finger inside, shortly followed by another one. He never gets tired of the second in which Yennefer lets go, when her violet eyes soften and her body tenses to then relax. She takes a second to recover, kissing him, sucking his nipples one at a time, and then pulling his pants and underwear down just enough to free him. 

‘Sit, Geralt. Fast. Now.’

He groans his agreement and slides back until he is sitting against the wooden headboard. There are not enough pillows to make it comfortable, and his muscles complain a little, but that just makes the contrast of Yen’s softness better. She takes him in all at once and hugs him hard, pressing their torsos together for a second as she finds the right angle. His arms surround her and hold her up so that she can thrust against him and the scent of her hair blinds him as if it were light and not perfume, a cloud of oblivion. He comes inside her and feels both the victorious joy they share and the pang of disappointment that always hits her a few seconds after, when the thought that neither of them can conceive reaches her mind. She brushes it aside, as always, but he knows her too well now for it to go unnoticed. He holds her close, not letting her move away, keeping them as together as they can be considering they are still dressed. Geralt’s fingers play with her curls and her breath warms his neck. It is comfortable. There is a companionship in the moment that neither experience very often.

‘I liked this dress.’

‘You shouldn’t have worn it, then.’

‘I was not planning on wearing it for long.’ 

‘Plans change. Life surprises you.’ He places a soft kiss on her shoulder. ‘You should know. You surprise me constantly.’

Yennefer sighs and moves back, enough to stare at him. 

‘So do you, Geralt.’

‘Yen…’

‘Don’t.’

* * *

Yennefer wakes up first this time. Geralt’s face is right in front of hers, his hand carelessly placed on her arm. He sleeps deeply when they are together, his whole body relaxed and his mind quiet, no ghosts hunting his dreams. She stares at him for a few minutes, at his jaw, the lines around his eyes, the deep dimple in his chin. He is beautiful, but that is not why she likes him. Why she loves him. She can feel the softness behind the hardened muscles, the kindness in his heart, a tenderness she has never found in herself. His body is slightly colder than a normal human’s, but his presence fills her with warmth anyway. She wonders why he cannot be enough. Why she yearns for more. She wonders if maybe she is making a mistake. Perhaps he could fill the void inside her, be everything she needs. But Geralt deserves better than to be a bandage for her wounded soul. She cannot take his heart to fix her own. She needs to be sure that she loves him and not the image of herself that she can see in his eyes when they are together. She takes his hand and kisses it, sure that he will not wake up. There will be no goodbyes and no promises. It is ok. It is how they do it most times, leaving one another to wake up alone. 

Yennefer does her best with her very ruined dress and her messy hair and leaves after a last glance. She sees Jaskier at a table on the far end of the inn, enjoying breakfast with the daughter of the innkeeper, and the bard shoots her an annoyed look. He does not like her. He hates that Yennefer has the power to hurt Geralt like no monster can. 

She cannot blame him. She knows she will. 


End file.
